Essays, personal musings and reflections on my genealogical research, experiences, history in general, family history and more in the United States and Canada.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Sentimental Sunday: My First Home

My first home, and the one with the happiest memories for me, was in Maple Valley, WA. My father, Bill Huber, bought ten acres and built our small house (in middle of photo) in about 1948. The house was situated on top of a big hill, and had a sweeping view over a wide valley and the distant foothills of the Cascade Mountains.

As our family grew, Dad added on more bedrooms. Later, in 1952, he built the house on the left for my maternal grandparents.

My sister and I used the old Model A Ford as a playhouse when we were very young. I think my father had some plans for it, but never got around to fixing it up!

I took my first steps in the driveway at this house.

I was only two years old when my Grandma Ruby and Grandpa Rolla moved in next door. So in my memories, they were always present for my earliest birthdays and holidays. Their house was so much fun to visit! When I was older, say about four or five, I would scamper next door by myself and join my Grandma Ruby for afternoon tea--a real tea party, not just pretend!

I was very sad when my grandparents moved to Seattle, but they were used to living in the city, and neither of them could drive a car. We did visit them frequently, after they moved, and often celebrated holidays in their tiny apartment on Queen Anne Hill.

Dad showing me the construction of my grandparents' new home, in 1955.

The inside of Ruby & Rolla's house in Maple Valley. It was always very tidy and full of interesting & pretty "artifacts" and treasures!

My parents sold the houses and ten acres in 1960, and we moved to a large farm in eastern Washington. I missed the Maple Valley house very much. But we never went back, not even to visit.

In 1994 my husband and I decided to try and find the old place. I was amazed that after nearly forty years, I still knew the way home! And miracle of miracles, the area was still rural, and looked very much the same as when I had lived there. The entire property was fenced off as a horse pasture, and although our house was long gone, my grandparents' house was vacant but still completely intact--a testament to my father's fine carpentry skills!